


Coming Home

by honestgrins



Series: Round and Round [5]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, klaroline infinity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 11:56:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10189391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honestgrins/pseuds/honestgrins
Summary: Day 5 - Fusion: He left his depressing family legacy for a reason, and even Mikael's death couldn't make the funeral home business an attractive prospect. An old flame, on the other hand, just might be the push Klaus needs to make a change. (Six Feet Under AU)





	

"You want me to what?" Klaus wondered if his mother had finally gone insane. It figured she would wait until after Mikael died, when he might actually bear to come home again to visit her - the keyword being 'visit.' "I'm not staying in Mystic Falls to help Elijah run the business."

Esther regarded him coolly from across the breakfast table, imperiously stirring her tea. "Your brother is quite versed in the business dealings, but he's never had your artistic hand," she explained. "Without Mikael to do the restorations, we stand to lose potential intakes."

Jaw slack, Klaus processed just what she was asking. "I'm a painter, not a mortician."

Mikaelson Funeral Home was well respected in the community, somehow despite the coldness of Mikael Mikaelson. His terrible father, in name only, managed to fool the neighbors into seeing him as a businessman caring for those in their darkest time. No one understood what Klaus did, that Mikael got a perverse pleasure in gouging a grieving family for every cent they had just to bury a loved one.

"Don't be silly, Niklaus," Esther dismissed with a wave of her hand. "You're hardly making a steady income in New York, and you can paint just as well here. Mikael, for all his faults, he always knew you were suited to this work, which is why he made you assist with the embalming during your school years."

"Which is why I fled to New York the first chance I got." Klaus stood abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair. "I can't do this right now."

Just before he could leave, though, Esther pinned him with a knowing stare. "If you're going to town, please stop by the market. I'll text you a list."

Klaus slammed the door on his way out.

* * *

After storming out of the house, Klaus found himself wandering the town he hadn't missed at all. He enjoyed seeing his siblings, especially since he seemed to miss so much of Henrik's life; the quiet teen was hardly the little boy he left behind ten years earlier. And as much as he enjoyed his life in New York, his career hadn't taken off as he hoped and his savings were dwindling faster every day.

Still, moving home felt like defeat.

He sighed as he ducked into the market for his mother's list. Acquiescing might be a sign of weakness in his resolve, but Klaus had to admit she made a good case. His experience in the bleak, basement workshop of Mikaelson Funeral Home was a valuable trade, as reluctant as he was to say that Mikael did him any favors.

To seriously consider staying, Klaus would need to straighten out the licensing requirements for Virginia; his ten-year-dormant apprenticeship probably wouldn't matter much to the state. Restoration was more delicate and invasive work, and only Mikael's political connections Klaus to learn the intricacies as a student without official mortuary schooling.

Partnering with Elijah would be its own hurdle as well. The prodigal son returning to the family business was scandalous enough, but Klaus's natural abilities already exceeded those of his elder brother who never dared to leave in the first place. He worried that Elijah wouldn't be so amenable to the idea as his mother was adamant.

Lost in his thoughts, Klaus turned the corner to find crackers only to bump into a smaller body, sending a flurry of blonde curls to the floor. "Pardon, love," he said, automatically bending to help the girl up. He froze when he recognized her light giggle.

"No worries." She stood up, brushing off her jeans before meeting his shocked gaze with one of her own. "Klaus."

"Hello, Caroline," he greeted, still in awe to find his high school sweetheart just where he left her. "I thought you went to school in Chicago."

Clearing her throat, Caroline shifted uncomfortably as Klaus's eyes couldn't help roving over her. "I did, but I just moved back home last year," she answered reluctantly. "What about you? Last I heard, you were opening a gallery in New York."

"Just contributing," he clarified. "Mother and Henrik finally convinced me to visit after-" Klaus luckily didn't have to explain his new freedom in light of Mikael's death the month before; he could tell Caroline understood by her sober expression. "Anyway, there's not a lot left for me in New York."

"Oh."

He wanted to ask about her, a luxury Klaus had refused himself since all but abandoning her after their high school graduation for the greener pastures that turned dull once he no longer had Caroline in his corner. It wasn't her fault he needed to leave, but she was the one to cut all ties with him.

Perhaps if he had told her about his plans before, or at least said goodbye. But she had looked so beautiful, happy to shed her cap and gown so she could organize the event clean-up. He hated to watch her smile fall as he explained about the small inheritance from his birth father, money he planned to use to establish himself up in the city - alone.

It wasn't that he wanted to leave her; he just didn't want to screw up the future she had meticulously laid out for herself. So, he left with a final kiss on her cheek.

And looking at her, ten years older but no less beautiful, Klaus had no idea how he managed such a feat.

"You look well," he said, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "Are you…"

Klaus trailed off, too many questions bouncing around his head to ask only one. Just like old times, he could see her irritation growing: her eyes narrowed, her arms crossed, her foot began to tap. Unlike old times, however, she sternly remained silent opposed to the burst of anger she couldn't hold back for long.

When she raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to answer, he had to bite the bullet and ask the question that scared him the most. "Are you happy?"

It must have taken Caroline by surprise, though he wasn't sure why. "Um, I-" She stopped herself, eyes wide as she seemed to be seriously considering her answer. A tear pooled at the corner of her eye unexpectedly. "I should go."

"Wait, Caroline." He reached for her wrist before she could flee. "Please."

"I don't owe you anything," she snapped, pulling herself free.

Klaus held his hands up peacefully. "I know," he admitted.

Softening, Caroline loosened her stiff posture ever so slightly. "Sorry, I'm a little on edge." She swallowed, as though unsure whether to continue. "I wasn't expecting to see you, ever again, and now you're here the day…"

"The day…?" he prodded gently. Klaus was never a warm person, but Caroline always seemed to be his exception. "Sweetheart."

She scoffed, crossing her arms again. "Today, Mom asked me to go back to Chicago," she finally answered. "I moved back to help during her first round of chemo, and she's officially in remission as of a few hours ago. I was stocking up for our celebration tonight."

Glancing down to her cart, Klaus noted Caroline's favorite ice cream among the various snacks and bottles of wine. He worried he was misunderstanding her, too afraid to hope. He kept quiet, waiting for her to fill in the blanks about what leaving Chicago had to do with his sudden arrival.

"God," she sighed. "I was actually thinking about staying in this godforsaken town, only for you to show up and remind me why I was so ready to leave all those years ago."

Klaus frowned. "Fair enough, I suppose," he muttered. "But you want to stay?"

"I like my life here." Slowly, the anger dissipated from her eyes as she spoke. "I'm working at the news station, an on-air reporter. It's a much better gig than the production assistant job I had in Chicago. I also help to advise the journalism club at the high school," she said. "It's been nice to feel like a part of the community again."

"That's the part I don't miss," he admitted. "The anonymity of the city was leaps better than the gossip on every corner here." Klaus could see at least two older ladies whispering and watching them have this very public conversation.

"Hello, Mrs. Fell!" Caroline called mischievously, wearing her 'kill them with kindness' smile. The ladies quickly found another aisle to continue shopping, leaving Klaus and Caroline to chuckle amiably with each other. Her smile sobered, though, when she glanced up at him. "So, when do you go back?"

Smirking, Klaus toyed with the rim of her cart as he edged closer. "Funnily enough, Mother doesn't want me to."

Caroline's face fell slack in surprise again. "W-what?"

"She wants me to help Elijah with the business," he explained. "I was actually considering it when I bumped into you."

"You hated it here!" Her whole face scrunched in utter confusion. "Why would you- How could- Why?"

Klaus shrugged, enjoying her familiar and expressive behavior. "New York isn't everything I wanted it to be, and it'd be nice to be around the family without Mikael poisoning everything." With his heart in his throat, he took another step toward her. "Do you maybe want to get lunch tomorrow?" Before she could even begin to formulate a reply, he rushed to assure her, "I know today is about your mom, but I'd really like to catch up."

Watching him shrewdly, Caroline was quiet for a long moment. "Okay, the Grill at noon," she agreed quietly. "I should get going, though, the ice cream is melting."

As though he couldn't help himself, Klaus tugged lightly at a curl lying on her shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow, Caroline."

He watched her go, pleased at the small smile tilting her lips. For once, he felt hopeful about staying in Mystic Falls.

Maybe he should take his mother up on her offer after all.


End file.
